


Tom's Story

by chains_archivist



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Boys in Chains, M/M, Prison, Rape, Unfinished, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by ZorroRojo</p><p> Tom Paris is in prison in New Zealand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tom's Story

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--
> 
> Notes: Tom's Story is Part 4 of a five part story arc called "First Impressions". Earlier parts of the arc can be found at ZorroRojo's webpage http://zorrorojo.slashcity.com/

The guard taps on the glass, points, and asks his partner, "Is that the Paris kid?"

Just a glance for just another prisoner. High profile prisoners are the norm in New Zealand. The nobodies are sent to Tasmania. "Sure is. Hey, hand me my coffee, wouldya?"

A brief glance at the terminal and he has another question. "This can't be right, can it?"

"What?" The computers are always right.

"He's assigned to cellblock four."

"Four?" The second guard, genuinely puzzled.

One more look, and it is confirmed. "That's what it says."

"Kid won't last a month in there. Where are you going for lunch?"

"Annie's. Why, you want something?"

"Yeah, today's Tuesday? Get me the special."

The guard stands to stretch and heads for the door. "You got it. Want me to take escort duty before I go?"

"Yeah, last time I stepped in four, that cannibal Z'lares looked at me like I was his next meal. That place gives me the creeps."

"Only the best and brightest in four. It's all right, I'll cover you this time but next time you're going."

The deal accepted, he waves off his partner, "Fine, fine, don't forget my lunch."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Undress and put your clothes in the bin."

I remove my boots. My socks. My prison issue grey jumpsuit.

"To the skin."

Sure, why not? Only ten in the room this time.

"Turn around."

Just do what you're told, Tom. It's been exactly the same for a month. A month to the day since I was captured. Since then it's been sit. Stand. Eat. Sleep. Talk. Shut-up. Follow me. Someone watching every second. Parading me in front of the news holocams. A public trial. An even more public sentencing, and the encore, a public disownment. But it was just a show like all the others. The real disownment was on The Carolina and not for the public. After the trial good old dad made his announcement. He said he didn't want to believe it, but I had a fair trial and was found guilty. I'm not his son anymore. Thanks dad. Eighteen months. Today is the first day of 547.

"Regenerator."

With just a little tingling, all my scars are gone. My scars, my history, my life. The last year erased with one swipe of a regenerator. I wonder if they have an internal one here?

"Turn."

Of course. Your wish is my command. How many more times do you need to prove that my life is not my own. My body not my own. Fuck you. Get your fucking hands off me.

"Step into the decontaminater."

Why? Use your fucking tri-corder, I'm clean. You know I am. Fucker. Sonic, not even water, of course.

"Step out."

Don't look at me.

"Give me your left leg."

Stop looking at my bare ass.

"Give me your leg. Now."

Take it.

"Dammit Paris. Do what you're told. Give me your leg."

Fucker. He attaches the ankle bracelet, my new companion. Water-proof, tamper-proof, a range of ten thousand kilometers. A click and a tug and it's part of me. A little tighter please. I might be able to get it off. Yeah, when I can feel my toes again. Don't let them see you flinch.

"Put these on."

Grey, everything is grey. Can't have a little hope, now can we? Enlightened penal system? Right. For all but the most dangerous, right judge?

"Follow me."

Actually, I think I'll stay here. I kind of like the endless grey, the scans, the other prisoners eyeing me, waiting. I can see it in their eyes. No worse than the guards staring at me. I wonder if there are always ten guards in this room. Seems like overkill. Of course, they're here to see little old me. Media star. Killer and traitor. No need to stare guys, I'm going to be here for awhile.

"Take him to Four. Cell thirteen."

My lucky number. The guard motions for me to follow him and starts talking at me before we even leave the intake office. "Eighteen months, Paris? You got off lucky. Most of our Maquis are serving thirty years. Stop."

He motions up to the glassed in offices and the door opens in front of us. He doesn't even control the door. No keys on the guards. Not even automation to his lifesigns. Guess they leave him inside if the animals attack. Interesting. I can see over the top of his head through the window in the door and there is only a long corridor stretching out endlessly.

"Follow me. Don't you talk?" He cranes his neck at me to see if I'm following and of course I am. We walk downward, following the dull grey corridor. After a few moments it turns upward again and I wonder what we just walked under. A security fence? A minefield? A moat? Nothing's impossible, I've learned.

After letting him stew in the silence for a few minutes, I finally answer. "I've been known to say a word or two." Of course it comes out flippant, even when I meant it to be neutral. You are not scared, you are not scared. You are not scared, I repeat over and over, inside my own head. With only a glimpse of this place, I'm the one who needs convincing. "Where are we going?" The guy seems to want to talk to me, so why not let him?

"Cellblock four. I don't know who you pissed off to get sent here, Paris. Cellblock four is for the irredeemables. All men who for some reason or another the Federation has given up any hope of rehabilitation and has decided to settle for punishment. Your records say you were convicted of weapons smuggling. You're practically an upstanding citizen compared with your new neighbors. I have one piece of advice for you."

I watch him and he's looking at me like I should kiss his boots for telling me whatever he's about to. Fuck it, I'm not playing his game.

"My advice is that you watch your ass, or you find someone to do it for you, and fast. A young, good looking guy like you. An admiral's son. You got off on the treason charge even though you were guilty as sin. What do you think our Maquis are going to think you traded for that? You're serving eighteen months and they're serving the rest of their lives." He smirks at me and I want to ask him what he thinks I traded, but I don't want to hold a conversation, not really.

What I want to do is shock him. I want to say so what? I want to tell him to shut the fuck up. I want out of here. I'd even go back three months and run away from the Maquis as soon as I saw them if I knew this is where I'd end up. I'd rather be P'tyl's personal boy than spend another night locked in a six by eight foot room.

New Zealand. As soon as we step outside I see the incredible beauty of the place. Green and lush, birds calling, a slight breeze ruffling the flowerbeds. Perfect paths leading around the shrubbery. Flowering trees and the sound of a waterfall in the distance. The bright sun shining on this paradise on Earth makes it all even more vivid and alive. The colors are almost a kaleidoscope. But as soon as we step inside those doors, it's all gone. Only walls and prisoners. The actual maximum building is located inside three separate perimeters; the first is at the end of just another perfectly sculpted path lined with Boboa trees. How can they lie like this?

I keep telling myself this isn't going to be so bad. No one is going to be shooting at me. No one is going to be trying to kill me. I have food, a place to sleep. It's only eighteen months. I'll make it. I wonder if Chakotay knows where I am. All I could think about during my trial was that it was so public. He'll know I didn't run away, he'll know I was captured. I didn't run. I didn't leave him to save my own ass. I wish he could know how easy it would have been for me to do just that. When I get out of here, I'm going to tell him.

We pass through a normal fence with only one guard at the gate. His panel has more read-outs than a galaxy class Starship's ops station. As soon as we're through the checkpoint scans, including the recording and beeping of my ankle bracelet, the guard talks at me again. "You're in cell thirteen. Your cellmate is human, we try not to mix species. We had a problem deciding where to put you. Two to a cell here, unlike minimum where you get your own quarters. The thing is, Paris, we had to find someone who wouldn't kill you on sight. Most of the inmates here are former Starfleet officers and Maquis. See, you're causing problems and you haven't even been here a day."

"So sorry." Shove it up your ass. You're not the first person my existence has been an inconvenience to.

He leers at me, I wonder if he practices that delighted to be so amused at my expense look at home, "Are you being sarcastic? Are you a hardass, Paris?"

Good question, asshole. The doors whisper silently shut behind us. Well damn. Somehow, that just doesn't seem fair. I've thought about this a lot and I've never even imagined that door closing away my life without a horrible, metallic clang; that grating, slamming forever sound you hear in those old vids nobody but me watches anyway. I just hate that awful noise when the doors slam shut forever on some poor schmuck's life. But hell, why should this part of my life live up to my expectations? God knows nothing else has so far. Instead, I have to strain to hear the finality of it all; there's just barely a whisper.

Well hell, whaddya know. We've changed motifs. My grey, grey, nothing but grey life has been changed for blinding white in here. Snow white. Pristine, clean pure white. Who do they think they're fooling? Not me, that's for damn sure. Funny, there's no sound, but then again, maybe I can't hear. Wouldn't be the first time.

That guard, I think he's talking to me again but he sounds miles away. I'm right, he's talking to me again, but I can't hear him through the solid reality of my brave new world crashing into place. I'm finally here - in prison. No more tricks to try, no more scams to run, it's finally happened. Oh well, this is where I should have been two years ago. Now that I think about it, I'm amazed it took them this long to figure out what I've always known. I was born a fuck-up. I've lived as a fuck up, and now, I'm gonna rot in prison, and no doubt, I'll be fucked up every day that dawns. No running from your destiny Tommy. You hid from it for a bit; now it's time to pay up.

"What?" I finally ask him.

"I said, we're here. Stow your gear. We're going to the mess."

"I'm not hungry." The thought of food is too much. Having to eat it will be even worse.

"That wasn't a request. This is maximum Paris. You move when you're told to. You eat, sleep, piss, shit, and work only when you're told. As long as you remember your life is not yours here, you'll be fine." He's preening now. Fresh meat and he loves explaining the rules.

And how can I ever forget my new existence? It's everywhere I look. Fine, the messhall it is. "Who's my cellmate?"

"A smuggler named Roharen."

He looks at me with this huge grin crowding his face, rows of white teeth all I can see. He's got a secret; one I'm not going to find amusing.

"You two should have a lot in common. You're the only two smugglers in here. Want to know what he was smuggling?"

Not particularly, but I know he's itching to tell me. Weapons of mass destruction? Illegal narcotics? I don't really care but he's going to burst if he doesn't share. I can see it.

"Human body parts, along with some Bajoran and Vulcan. Know what for?"

I have no idea. It can't be medical. I'm sure I'm going to find out whether he tells me or not.

"Food. You ever meet a Jiklarian? Seems they find certain humanoid species tasty. So, here's this human, killing his own species and selling the parts to the Jiklarians. Now, let me ask you, what kind of person would do that?"

Another rhetorical question. He wants to hear himself talk. I've known enough people like him to just let him. Later, he'll tell his cronies what a good conversationalist I am.

"We're here. Step in front of the door and your ankle bracelet will open it."

He doesn't come in with me. I spot the sign above the door that says prisoners only. The plot thickens. He watches me as I walk through the door. I wonder how long he took in the pool. The pool that says how long it'll be before I end up in the infirmary - or dead. The joke's on them, I'm already dead. At least for the next eighteen months anyway.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Suck it," a leering, totally confident voice from right near my head, no trace of doubt at all in that voice. Guess he's already sure I'm gonna do anything he asks.

Fuck. Being dead may have it's own special charms, but, unfortunately, no sense of smell isn't one of them. He shoves his limp dick in my face and it reeks of piss and sweat and stale cum. There's no light in the room except the silvery shafts of moonlight slanting through the transparent aluminum wall-sized window. Shit, it's even beautiful in the cells here - if you're looking out. I try to see past his hulking body to the paradise outside. He steps closer to me, and all I can see is the solid bulk of him and the vague outline of that thing he's still waving at me.

"Suck it," he growls again from the darkness. He's pressing it tighter and tighter against my lips. Why am I fighting this? It won't do any good; just get it over with Tommy. Then, maybe, you can get some sleep tonight. Obedient, the perfect little whore, his perfect little whore, I open my mouth.

Ouch! Damn it asshole, I know what I'm doing, just give me a second here. But no, he's pulling on my hair and it hurts like a son of a bitch 'cause his fucking grip is so tight, jerking me around, arranging me to his liking. Guess he's finally got me just where he wants me cause now he's got my head between his hands, making sure I stay in the perfect position for him to just fuck his way straight down my throat. He tastes a hell of a lot worse than he smells. Hasn't he ever heard of washing under his foreskin? If this were my dick I think I'd be afraid the damn thing might rot off it's so rancid and filthy. Course, maybe before now he hasn't had someone's mouth to wash it off in every night. Just what I've always aspired to be - some asshole's personal dick-washing service. Wonder how I should list this talent on my resume when I finally get out of here? Probably the same way I'll list my last occupation - for sale to the highest bidder.

I try to keep my mind occupied with thoughts like that and keep my eyes squeezed tight, it won't be quite as bad if I can't see what I'm doing. Strictly speaking, it's not the worst dick I've ever had to suck. But those were before Chakotay. This is here and now and the smell and taste are going to gag me if I don't get my mind out of this fucking cell. Open your mouth and close your mind Tom. You can get through this. Suck harder, lots harder. Twist your tongue over the head -- there you go, he's starting to pant and grunt. The hotter you can get him the sooner you can get the fuck away. At least I know what I'm doing.

In this darkness and being pressed so tightly to him, I can't see his face and I know I don't want to. I had my fill earlier thank you very much. I met him in the mess hall, quite naturally, the first person I met. That prick of a guard was nice enough to call him to the door and deliver me right to him. Kinda gives me a warm glow; special delivery, no extra charge.

God but he's tall. I have to look up at him when he stands. He towers over me and I'm a pretty tall guy. He laughed the second he saw me; he laughed even harder when the guard introduced us. He announced to everyone in hearing distance that I was his new boy - his new collection of holes. I wonder if he studied poetry in school? He wondered aloud about how he must have been a very good prisoner to have been given a prize like me. I ignored the prick then, just like I'm ignoring him now. His hands tighten in my hair and his dick gets even bigger in my mouth. He's grunting and wheezing now - heaving and panting. It's all I can do to keep my throat open, my tongue busy and try to remember to keep breathing through my nose. Much as I'd like to pass out I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate it. And if this is my new life with a happy, contended cellmate, I don't want to contemplate my life with a pissed-off one. His hands wrap tighter in my hair and I know he's pulling some out.

Just relax Tom. Relax and let him come in your throat and he'll be happy. Until the next time he feels like screwing you. This is going to get really old really fast. His hands could easily crush my skull but it would be a quick death. Maybe someday I'll try and go that route, someday...

I wonder, I've never seen a bigger human in my life. Maybe he isn't human after all. He tastes human though, even if he doesn't look it. I've sucked enough cock in my life to tell a human from some other species. What would he do if I bit him? Well, besides kill me as soon as he could get his hands out of his crotch. I've got to stop thinking about the fact that I could bite his dick right off. I know he'd kill me and it wouldn't be that quick painless sort of death I was contemplating earlier. Get your mind back to the job. He's ready to come, get it over with. He jerks my head toward him, bashing my nose against his pelvic bone, then shoves me back. Pull, push, pull, push, all that's left for me to do is keep my mouth open and figure out a way to keep breathing. I feel him start to come and God, it's a flood and I know I'm going to drown. Going to drown in cum my first night in prison. How fitting considering my life over the past year.

How does he know? Is there a sign over my head that says 'Useless, spineless little whore. Available to fuck at your leisure'?" How does he know I won't put up a fight? How did any of them know? Stop thinking about it, just let him use my mouth and my throat and my entire body soon enough. Then go back to bed and try not to think about the way my mouth's gonna taste in the morning.

Fuck! He's making me swallow. I won't! I can't breathe. He's covering my nose, smashing it against my face, pressing my jaw shut, I give up and swallow just so he'll let me breathe. Guess what? He's laughing again, laughing the whole time he came, laughing the whole time he's fucking my mouth, laughing from the moment he met me. Him and everyone else that's ever met me. I bet if he could see me now, Chakotay'd be laughing too. I know Seska would be. They'd laugh together.

I collapse to the hard cold floor as soon he releases me, my neck and back aching and throbbing from being jerked and shoved, and I lie silently, waiting for him to climb back onto his bunk. I crawl to the sink and wash my mouth, my face, my mouth, my hands, my mouth. It's never going away, I'll still taste him long after I'm dead. I puke all over the floor and he laughs again, even more pleased with himself.

"I better not step in that in the morning."

I guess that's his way of saying goodnight.

 

I sit down on my bunk, resigned to becoming part of a group where my only function is whipping boy. I wonder if belonging to them will keep the Maquis away? Most likely not. Still, there's a chance.

Roharen asks me a question, but I just stare blankly at him.

"I said, did you have a nice vacation in sickbay?"

"Huh?"

"I didn't give you brain damage, did I? Wouldn't that be a shame." His smile tells me it would be anything but a shame to him if he managed to turn me into an idiot.

"No. I'm fine."

"Good, you can start making me some money today, then."

"Uhm... how exactly am I going to make you money?" But I don't want to know, not really.

"Well, I'm advertising you as the best cocksucker in this place, guaranteed to send customers to the moon and back in ten minutes or less. And it's not even false advertising." He sits down next to me and I can't help but flinch. Shit! the last thing I want to show is weakness and within two minutes of my return, I'm cowering like some hand-shy dog.

"I'm flattered," I manage after a minute.

"Good. Because, Tommy boy," and now he's got me by the knee and he starts to squeeze. I look down, but he grabs my chin and forces me to look him in the eye. "If you don't deliver what I've promised, our next tryst will make our last look like true love."

He walks out the door, whistling a snappy tune and I curl up on my bunk. I'm only leaving this room when I have to. Two hours later, and I have to. I'm still assigned work duty in the motorpool and if I don't show, it's off to solitary for a week. After my last experience in solitary, I'd prefer even sickbay to a repeat.

My shift passes quickly, there's something about manual labor, fixing engines, welding, that lets me just be. I lose myself in my work, not quite believing I'd be allowed a few hours of happiness. It's over too soon and time for dinner in the mess. I put away my tools and take my time going there. I use my Starfleet survival skills and check every turn before I make it. Fuck being in a fog. I need every single one of my senses. There could be a group of Maquis waiting for me anywhere along the route.

I make it to the messhall without a challenge, but there's four Maquis in line ahead of me. Two of them are the ones who attacked me that day. Fuck! My stomach's rumbling, but I still haven't eaten a full solid meal, so I grab some fruit and scope out the place. Roharen and his band are in the back corner, and if I can make it over there, I can eat my apple and banana, then go home with them.

I'm halfway there when I have to pass a Fleet table. I put on my best hardass face and get by them with only a few comments thrown at me - bitch being the one that hurts the most. Guess the word's out already. Bitch, it fits somehow. I can't help smiling, but it's one of those little smiles that my dad always told me to wipe off my face or he'd do it for me. It has the same effect on the fleet assholes. As two of them stand, I practically break into a jog.

I make it to my target with them on my heels and I slip past Luger at the end of the table and sit between Roharen and Tallis. Luger stops the fleeters in their tracks by standing up. At six foot six, he's almost as tall as Roharen. I can't tear my eyes away and I'm shocked to realize I'm hoping to see some blood. The Fleeter's go back to their own table and I start munching on my apple.

Tallis has to make a cute comment, but I knew someone would as soon as I made the decision to join their table. "Hey Rho, looks like you've broke him in pretty quick, how'd you do it?"

"It didn't take much, I just gave him the full ten inches and he liked it so much, he's my bitch for life. Remember the last one?"

They all laugh their asses off and I slink lower on the bench. I know I'm quickly running the gamut from bright pink to dark red, to purple. They laugh even louder and I keep eating, only now, I'm pretending to eat... chewing the same small bite of apple until they get bored with me and start their nightly gossip session. I fade into the background as fast as I became their target and for the first time in almost three weeks, I relax a little. Shit, I relax so much, the next time I look up, the messhall is practically empty and someone's pushing me to my feet.

"Come on Paris, wake up."

I look up and it's a guy about my age, not as big as the rest of the group, and he's tugging me to my feet.

"We can't let them get too far ahead of us. I'll leave you here."

"I'm coming," and I stumble to my feet and follow him. I leave the rest of my dinner and jog to catch up with his rapidly disappearing body. "What's your name?" I ask him when I catch up halfway across the room. He looks behind us before he answers. I can make out the group of huge men we're trying to catch up with ahead of us and I move faster when the kid does.

"Peter."

"I'm Tom," I tell him and he snorts like I just told a joke.

"No shit Paris. Hurry up, we have to make it past Z'lares."

"Who?" The name sounds familiar, but I can't place it.

"Roharen's enemy, they blame each other for being in here. You are fucking green, aren't you?"

I don't answer the rhetorical question and I move closer to him. He's the first one who's shown any interest in helping me, I'm not about to piss him off. "What are you in for?" The standard prison introduction.

He shrugs in my general direction and darts down a row, calling back, "Hurry up! If you don't make it back without a scratch, I'm fucked!"

So much for meeting someone who wants to make friends. We slip out a side door and I follow him to his cell. He's three doors down from me and he bunks with Tallis. He jumps up onto the top bunk and motions for me to join him. I climb up and almost fall down from the sharp pain in my side. It's nothing compared to before, and I realize I'm not back to 100% yet, but I'm close.

I lean back against the wall, stretching my legs out in front of me and wait to see what this is all about. This kid's obviously being nice to me because he has to, or, because now that I'm here, he gets out of all the shit work. I sit still and watch him, thinking I might be able to take him if he tries anything with me. He's about as tall as me, a little thicker, but now that I look at him, he can't be more than nineteen or twenty years old. I've got a few years experience and probably ten times as many bar fights under my belt. I relax a little and watch him pull a small tin out from under his matters.

"Smoke?"

"I don't smoke."

"Not even cannabis?"

"In that case, yeah." Exactly what I need right now. I need some information and it's just the thing to loosen his tongue.

"So Roharen fucked you up pretty bad, huh?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I thought you were dead when they brought you into the showers. Shit, you had blood all over you. Your whole face was smashed in."

I jump down from the bunk as he lights up his smoke and I turn to leave. "I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Hey, come back here. You can't go back to your cell, they're having their meeting there."

"About me?"

"Fuck no. You don't mean shit to them. They're meeting about business. Drugs, hits, whores. Well, I guess you fall in that category."

The little prick is laughing at me and I feel like popping him in the face, but I'm tired and the cannabis is mellowing me out. I start laughing with him. "Are you Tallis' whore?"

"No, I'm his son. He was the first officer on Roharen's ship and we all got caught together."

My only response is a brilliant, "Oh." I climb back up next to him and take the offered smoke again. It's actually nice, sitting here with him. Once he stopped talking about what I looked like a few days ago, anyway. I stare at him through heavy eyelids and notice how good-looking he is. Curly dark hair, even features, red, red lips, and dark brown eyes... Chakotay eyes. He's staring back at me and it's weird, like we're connecting somehow. Then I say something stupid. "You're lucky Tallis is your dad. No one's fucking you."

"I wouldn't let them. I'm no one's bitch. I'd rather be dead." He stubs out the last of the smoke and jumps down. He rips off his shirt and he's cut. He's bulging with muscles I don't even know if I have. He points at a long scar across his chest and spits out, "One of them Fleeter's caught me in the laundry room alone the first week we were here. He tried to fuck me and cut me wide open when I fought back. Our crew took care of him. He's listed as missing. Funny how people go missing in a maximum security prison, ain't it? The bunk you're sleeping in belongs to a missing guy. Real pretty boy. Red hair, maybe 18 or 19 years old. A real looker. He thought he was tough."

"What happened to him?"

He smiles this really slick smile, so slick he looks like a used shuttlecraft dealer. "I would guess the Jiklarians got him. Yeah, that's who got him. He went out the waste disposal system a couple of days after they ate him raw."

"Are they the guys who look like lions?"

"Yup. You're lucky Roharen likes you. Instead of fucking that kid, he sent him to Z'lares. You got assets, and you don't mind using them. If you keep it up, you might make it through your sentence."

"Not if the Maquis have anything to say about it."

"Stay with one of us at all times and they won't come near you. When you're alone, you're on your own." He climbs up next to me and scoots over real close before asking, "I love getting high, don't you?" He's nice and warm next to me and he snuggles down into my lap. He's got a big smile on his face and he looks even younger than he did before. "You're nice and warm," he tells me and I can't help but stiffen. He just snuggles closer and whispers, "You're OK with me. If I wanted something from you, you'd be in my lap. You have about an hour if you want to take a nap."

"What happens in an hour?"

"Your first customer comes by."

He drifts off and I stay still. He's warm and the bunk is soft. I finally have some information about this place. It looks like the Maquis are not so dangerous after all. Jiklarians... I've never met one, but I've heard the stories. If you go into their space, you end up being a meal. Bajorans are their favorites, with Humans a close second and Vulcans or Romulans will do in a pinch. They won't touch Klingons or Ferengi or Cardassians. The rest of the Federation species, I don't know. Dad used to tell us bedtime stories about them... the girls loved them, but they gave me nightmares. I used to dream about having my flesh torn off me and watching one of them eat me while I was still alive. Now I'm locked up with three of them. And even though Roharen is their enemy, he still sends them treats. I imagine a red haired skinny kid getting ripped apart limb by limb, his blood dripping, his screams growing quiet as they eat him. It's a fate worse than any I've ever imagined.

Peter starts snoring and I watch him sleep. Even though he's spending the rest of his life in this place, he's got it easy. If I stick close to him, suck whatever cock Roharen tells me to, stay out of the Maquis' way, don't start any trouble, I'll get out of here and I'll find somewhere to live and I'll get a job ferrying freight. I'll have a warm body in my bed every night, alcohol in my glass and good food on my plate. I plan on a simple life.

"Tom? Tom... time to get up, c'mon."

Peter's shaking me awake, but I'm still stoned and feeling warm and I don't want to move. I let him shake me some more before I open my eyes and sigh. He laughs at me and pulls me so I'm sitting up, "Come on, you're going to be late."

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

 

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I walk through the grounds quickly, it's dinnertime and if I make it to the mess before I meet up with any Maquis, I'll be okay. They haven't give up even though they haven't gotten close to me for the past three weeks. Even that time the fucker who bit my ear off scheduled an appointment, Roharen stayed in the room. Shit, that was pretty funny. I wish he would stay in the room when some of the Fleeters come by. There's this one, ex Commander Tyler - a fuckwad who broke the prime directive four times on one deep space mission, managing to kill four thousand civilians of a stone age population - he acts like it's the Admiral himself sucking his dick. He even calls me Owen. Actually, I prefer when he calls me Admiral.

Pete's been meeting me at the motorpool everyday for the past week, but he's not here today, so I'm on my own crossing the grounds. I want to stop and look at the birds, the trees, the sky so blue, I have to fly in it, but if I linger, I might get caught. Today's laundry day and Pete and I get stoned as we put the crew's clothes through the fresher. He's probably gathering the laundry. They all work in the vegetable fields, I'm the only one who works in the motorpool. Seems my academy training was good for something.

I make it to the messhall without a confrontation and Pete's waiting for me. He managed to get me a tray and a seat next to him. He's a good guy, it's really not fair that he's here. He says he never killed anybody, but he had to stick with his dad and his uncle, both part of Roharen's crew. They'd pick people out of bars, people that looked like they'd never be missed, take them beck to their ship and gut them. They'd process the meat and sell it to Z'lares and his crew. Not enough Humans or Bajorans ventured into Jiklarian space to provide enough meat for the domestic market. The Enterprise caught them carrying meat and someone on the crew gave up Z'lares' ship's position. Then they all ended up here. That was two years ago and they all got life without any chance of parole. Seems the residents of that part of the Federation pushed for the sentence. I didn't even know there were humans in the sentient meat trade. You learn things every day.

He throws a napkin at me before pushing my tray at me. "You got grease all over you Tom. You should wash before dinner, didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"

I almost spill my drink from the irony... this guy who doesn't even know how to hold a fork is giving me manners lessons?

"Anyone bother you today?"

I shake my head as I answer, "Uh-uh."

He winks at me and I smile back, "I bet you love laundry day, don't you?"

Laundry day means I don't have to make Roharen any money. I do like laundry day. It's also the day we get real water showers and not sonic. Life is good on laundry day.

"Paris," Tallis yells from the other end of the table.

I look at him and he gestures for me to come over to him, which I do... quickly.

"If I'm not back by lights out, stay with Peter tonight."

Ohhhh-kaayy. But I don't say it. I've learned to keep my sarcasm to myself around these guys. Instead I stare at him blankly.

"If our meeting runs late, you are not to go back to your cell." He grabs me by the arm and shakes me before demanding, "Understand?"

I heard you the first time, asshole. I wonder who they're after tonight. I'd stay in Peter's cell every night if I could.

Pete calls me from the other end of the table and I grab all the empty trays and dump them in the recycler before hurrying to catch up with him. He throws an arm over my shoulder and starts telling me about his day. He's always got good stories to tell. Today they made one of the Bajorans eat worms until he puked. I laugh at the way Pete's telling the story and I can only hope it was one of the assholes who's been after me. Then I think of Gerron and what would happen to him in this place. The story isn't as funny anymore.

We make our rounds to the rest of the crew's cells and pick up the laundry but none of them are around. Something's going down and I want no part of it. The refresher room is empty and it's right next to the showers, so we strip and throw our clothes in with the rest. I'm a little embarrassed over how skinny and white I am next to Pete, but he doesn't comment. He just grins at me before he runs for the showers yelling, "I'll lock you in the hallway if you don't hurry."

I dart in behind him and he's got the water going already. It feels like old times. I can pretend we're roommates at the Academy and just fooling around like I used to with my friends. I have to remind myself this kid is a killer. It's hard for me to do in here. He's never threatened me, he doesn't try to intimidate me or fuck with me. But he is what he is. The warm water feels great and I stand still under the spray. I know we don't have long but I'm going to enjoy every second of it. If I close my eyes, I can pretend I'm standing under the little waterfall up in the southern continent of the hidden planet we found deep inside the Badlands. No one but Maquis know about that place and it's paradise in the stars. Chakotay and I got off the bucket of bolts he calls a ship and we swam and fucked and ate until we were ready to burst. I don't want to think about that time anymore. It's over, this is reality now. I open my eyes and Pete's staring at me with a look I recognize immediately - want. Him too -- of course.

But what he says surprises me. "You still letting Roharen fuck you every night?"

I turn my back to him and grab the hair cleaner. "I don't want to talk about it." He'd better drop it. I'll leave him right where he is if he doesn't let it go.

I don't hear him move, but he's right next to me, wrapping his arms around me, hugging me tight to him. I can't help flinching, but he doesn't let go. I brace myself for whatever he plans, but I have plans of my own. I have a chance against him. One on one, the two of us alone. I won't put up with shit from him too.

He loosens his grip and nuzzles the back of my neck, bending his head low so he can kiss my shoulder. I can't relax... even though it's the first time anyone's touched me like I'm a living person in months. He kisses a trail up my neck and loosens his grip around my middle. I can't help leaning into him. I don't want to, but I need to be touched and held. I hate myself for being weak, I hate myself for not stopping him, I hate myself for needing affection... but I still don't stop him.

"You're skin's soft." He whispers in my ear.

I do what I've been trying not to since he came to me. I turn around and put my arms over his shoulders. "Yours too," I admit. He does have nice skin. One of the perks of being young I guess. I lean in closer and meet his lips, surprised at the softness of his kiss. When was the last time I kissed someone? I feel guilty all of a sudden. I can tell myself that the rest, that wasn't fucking around, it wasn't my idea. This, this is partly my idea and I picture Chakotay, and under the spray of the showers, with my eyes closed, I almost believe my fantasy. He's even the right height and weight. Who am I kidding, I'll never see Chakotay again. I might as well make the best of what I've got. For the first time, I admit to myself that everything has changed and will never be the same again.

I let Pete back me against the wall; I let him invade my mouth with his tongue. Hmm, I guess the strange feeling I'm getting is lust, might as well go with it. We kiss for awhile and I'm totally content with it. I've had enough of everything else. A little kissing and hugging is feeling mighty nice about now.

"I want to fuck you," he whispers low in my ear.

Of course. "No."

"Come on Tom, it'll be good." He's nibbling on my neck and I'm even getting hard. He doesn't even consider that I might want to fuck him.

"I can't." Even though he's soft and warm and my only friend, I still don't want to. Even though I realize I still have a dick after months without a boner, I still don't want to. But you know what? I still let him turn me around anyway.

He presses against me and he's as hard as I am. He rubs against me like a cat with a scratch post and it still feels good. It helps that he's still kissing me, gently nipping my neck. It helps even more that he's got my dick in a perfect grip - not to tight, not too loose, and the water is just slippery enough that his hand moving up and down feels so fucking good. I go with the moment, knowing I am going to regret it. But I can worry about the regrets later.

I grip his hand in mine, squeezing his hand tighter around my dick. "No penetration," I tell him and I think he's getting it cause I can feel him nodding his head against my neck, his lips still leaving little jolts where he sucks and nibbles at my skin.

All of a sudden I get a jolt of pure pleasure and it takes me a second to realize he's got his dick between my cheeks, but pointing down, and the tip is pressing against the back of my balls and his hand is moving faster on my cock and the feeling is so great I want to shout. Not only is he listening to me, but he's paying attention to how I feel. What a fucking novelty. The world grows dim and I remember why I like sex so much in the first place. Shit, it just takes me to places I'd rather be than where I actually am. I forgot about that part. Then there's the part where I'm about to come and my whole life coalesces into that need to come, that need to get there, the point where there's no going back and it's so fucking good, and then I'm there and I come and come, bracing myself against the wall, loving the pressure of Pete behind me and he stiffens and he's coming too.

But there's no time for the afterglow as a voice booms from the doorway, "What the fuck is going on?"

 

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I walk down the corridor, knowing I'll never have any chance of ever getting back some of what I lost. I knew I'd never get it back after that night. But damn, can't I keep any of what's left? Back here in the dark halls of the rear half of the cellblock, I'm alone. I know the Maquis will stumble across me before long. I always see them jogging in twos around the entire perimeter corridors. I don't care. What are they gonna do, kick the shit out of me?

Fuck him. Fuck them all. God, this hurts worse than everything else that's happened in this fucking shithole. I'm gonna start screaming, there's not much else I can do. I tried the numb routine, and it worked - for awhile. I tried the do what I'm told and worry about what's happening to my soul later - when the rest of me is safe. But now? Now, I've let myself be betrayed. Let myself? Of course. Someone can't betray you if you didn't trust them in the first place. Oh, they can hurt you... take your blood and your tears and your pride, but they can't really hurt you - not the real you.

I should have known the second Roharen and Tallis and Luger and Jakes showed up. Should have known it the second that fucker asked what was going on. But did I? Of course not. Fucking little prick.

I sink to the floor and curl into a ball. It's gonna start any second now, I can feel it. It's that wall of hurt, starting way down deep in the pit of my belly. I've been shoving it further and further down but it's coming back up - and I let it. The tears start, but they're not the silent tears I normally shed... the ones that slip out and nothing you can do will stop them. No, these are the ones that are going to fight their way out... before I know it, I'm choking and sobbing and crying. I'm biting back the cries that wrench their way out of me... drawing blood from my hand where I try to keep it in. I haven't felt anything in so long, I'm shocked to hear the noise I'm making. I can't hold back the shaking, snot's running down my face... I don't care. I don't fucking care, I scream out... but only I could understand what I'm saying. I'm babbling... it hurts, it hurts so fucking bad and there's nothing I can do about it.

I can't believe it. Roharen asked him if he fucked me. He got right in Pete's face... only seconds after he came, he was still up in the clouds, but Roharen had him off the ground and against the wall and wanted to know if we'd fucked. I didn't wait for Pete to answer. I said, "no, we only kissed and rubbed against each other, we didn't fuck." Of course he didn't believe me. He backhanded Pete across the face, drawing blood from his nose and mouth and asked him again.

Pete shook his head no, so Rho whacked him again. I stood there, naked and shivering and not saying a word. He'd either believe him or he wouldn't. And he didn't. Rho dropped Pete and turned on me. I didn't shrink back though, I knew there was no point. I don't think I'll ever back down to someone getting in my face ever again. What are they gonna do? Beat me? Right. I've lived through worse.

I stared back at his ugly face and didn't flinch. I was pretty fucking proud of myself - for about half a second.

"Whore." The venom in his tone had a sorta funny quality to it. But his words were anything but funny. "Since you'll spread your ass for anyone, your ass is for sale now too."

"Whatever." For a second I didn't realize I had actually spoken the word. The he grabbed Pete again and shook him. And I knew from the look on his face that I was on my own. I am such an idiot. I'm an idiot for actually thinking that shithead cared about me.

Roharen had him by the neck, had him right against the wall and his fingers were so tight around his throat that I swore his eyes were about to bulge out. Roharen asked him again, "did you fuck him?"

The way Pete wouldn't look at me, I didn't need to hear the answer. I heard it anyway, and I swear it hurt worse than everything else. Just thinking about it and I start blubbering again. I don't want to, I thought I was beyond feeling. Think again Tommy, think again. My only friend saved his own ass, and I can't blame him. What I can blame him for is him selling mine to save his. I couldn't believe it when the words started coming out of his mouth. It would have been one thing for him to say, "yeah, we fucked." But no. What did he say. He said we'd fucked, but he didn't want to. I begged him to fuck me. I forced myself on him and he couldn't help himself.

Why can't they just leave me alone? It's all I ever wanted? I don't fuck with anyone, I don't go out of my way to cause anyone else any grief. I don't get it. I can't do this anymore. I can't. Even the people you think won't fuck you over, they do. Every single time. I've tried to stay out of their way, I've tried to do whatever they want. Well it doesn't fucking work, they only want more. Everytime I give away a piece of myself, they only want more.

Roharen dropped Pete and crossed to me in one stride. But I still didn't fucking flinch. If I'm gonna walk the fucking plank, I'm doing it with my head held high. Or as high as I could hold it after getting slammed into the wall head first. Ok, him screaming fucking whore at me wasn't so bad. Him screaming that my ass was now for sale wasn't so bad either. Know what was bad? Him telling his entire crew they could all fuck me for free right then. I wanted it so bad, he demanded as he slammed his fist into my stomach, I could have as much as I wanted. So, six of them took their turns, then left me there. As soon as I was sure they were all gone, I ran back here... still naked, but I don't give a fuck. Maybe the Maquis'll find me and take care of things for me.

I don't know how long I've been here alone in this dark hallway. The lights out bell rung a long time ago. I'm spending the night out here. The doors are all locked now. I know that at any time I'll be beamed out of here - to spend the next week in solitary for breaking curfew. Solitary sounds good now. I hear if you kill someone, you get lots of time in solitary, maybe I should kill someone.

I could easily kill someone right now. I gotta kill someone else, or it'll be me I'm killing. I'm stuck between self-pity and rage so strong, I could take on the whole fucking fleet of Maquis right now.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

I'm going to fall asleep right here against the wall. I'm all cried out and there's nothing for me to do. I'm going to have to face them again tomorrow, there's no getting around it. A heavy weight settles on top of me as I realize I have no options. What do you do when you have no choices? There's something moving in the corridor, but I don't even try to hide. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around myself and hold on tight. I've never been outside of my cell at night, or at least not while I was conscious, so I don't know who or what it could be. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and wait for whoever it is to make themselves known or pass me by. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I'm stone still. I'm frozen in place as the shadow from the ambient light outlines whoever it is. They're so quiet only instinct tells me they're there - until the one directly behind me grabs the nape of my neck. I jump out of my skin and a huge paw slaps over my mouth. The one on the other side grabs my legs and I'm suddenly four feet off the ground and being carried down the hall. I don't even put up a fight.

A cell door ahead of us opens and spills light into the hallway and whoever's carrying me picks up the pace. As we approach the door and the light catches the one holding my legs, I get hit with a new wave of fear and nausea; right when I never thought I could be afraid of anything again - Jiklarians. Fuck.

They put me down as soon as we enter the cell. Their room is dim, and different from the others I've seen already. I'm looking at the floor, anywhere but at them, and I see two bunks instead of one. Their cell is the same size as the others, so it's crowded in here. Two of them are behind me and I can feel them looking at me. The one in front of me moves closer, so close his booted feet are inches from my bare ones. I flinch as he leans in and starts sniffing me. That's exactly what he's doing. I really, really don't want to be a meal. Tom Paris burgers. I wonder what do they do with the bones?

Since we came in here, there's been this loud clicking noise, but I only figure out where it's coming from when the guy sticks out his paw and holds my jaw shut. As soon as he's holding my jaw, the clicking noise stops. Hey, I'm quick, that noise was my teeth knocking together. I realize I'm freezing at the same time a giant, sandpaper tongue snakes out and licks my neck. I'm still frozen in place, so when he... it... keeps licking me, I don't do anything. I'm shivering from the cold and a giant, plate-sized tongue bathing all my pulse points. He's gonna bite me. I almost ask him to just please kill me quick, please don't eat me before I'm dead. But I don't think I could talk even to beg for my life.

I close my eyes and try to stay upright. I'll die on my feet, dammit! He keeps licking my neck, but he doesn't touch me anywhere else. He moves to my side and I open my eye when he starts licking behind my ear. His tongue is raspy like a cat, but he's humanoid. His paws have claws on the end, and the pad is thick like an actual paw. He has fingers and an opposable thumb though. Curiosity gets the better of me and I open both eyes.

He stops licking me and starts sniffing again. He sniffs the air around my body before asking, in standard, "Who are you?"

I don't answer him because I can't. So he asks his friends in a language I don't understand. I do understand my name in their tongue though. He doesn't react to my name and maybe there's actually someone in this place who doesn't know who I am.

That thought is short lived when he comes closer to me and whispers, "Ah, the son of the Admiral."

I drop my eyes to the floor again. Yup, that's who I am, son of Owen Paris. I'm not Tom Paris, I'm the son of Owen Paris.

"Why are you so afraid?" he asks me without a trace of humor.

I find my voice and answer, "I'm not." I look him in the eye for the first time to drive home my words.

But he laughs at me, his laughter is warm, it's not even laughing, it's purring. I keep eye contact when what I really want to do is look him up and down. He's the most intriguing alien I've ever met.

"I could smell your fear before we went into the corridor. So," he steeples his hands together and rests his chin on the tip of his fingers. He stares at me for a minute, letting his eyes roam up and down my naked body, "You are not afraid of us. Or we are not the only reason. Why are you not in your cell?"

"I got in a fight and I didn't want to go back."

"Who is your cellmate?"

I almost lie, but what the hell. "Roharen."

There's noise and shuffling from behind me as soon as the name is past my lips. Z'lares stills them with a finger in the air and the room is quiet again. He stares at me intently, like I'm more interesting all of a sudden.

"You may stay here tonight."

"Uhm... thanks, but I can't. Can I go?"

"No. You cannot."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Give you a place to sleep. You may have that bunk." He points to the bottom bunk against the far wall and I don't need to be told twice. I jump into the bed and curl into a ball. I'm not a little confused, but hey, I'm flexible - as long as they don't eat me. I can hear them talking in their own language. Prisoners don't get com badges and there aren't any translators in the cells. The other two leave the room and it's just me and Z'lares. I don't know how they come and go without getting caught, but I mean to find out. It's a skill that could come in handy.

I pull the thin sheet up to my chin and close my eyes, still tense, still cold, still scared out of my mind. If they were going to eat me, Z'lares wouldn't have sent the others away, right? He would share, right?

"We prefer a lower temperature than is comfortable for humans."

"I'm OK," I lie. I know my uncontrollable shivering and my teeth knocking together prove to him that I'm lying, but I want him to climb into his bunk and forget about me.

"Move over," he orders as he climbs in next to me.

I move as far away from him as I can. I'm about to fall through the space between the wall and the bed, but that's OK. I can't stop shivering. I want to turn around, but I can't lay here with my back to him. I wrap my arms around my body, trying to warm up my hands at the same time.

"Stupid boy."

"What?" I whisper at him. I know he's staring at me, but I keep my eyes down. I wish I could stop shaking but it's so cold.

"We don't have any blankets. I'll keep you warm."

"No thanks."

"Stupid child."

That's twice he's called me stupid and a kid. I can't manage to get insulted though.

"I am not a child molester," he tells me.

No, you only eat people. "Well that's nice but I am not a child."

"Children do not belong in this place. Humans are barbaric."

I don't know what to say to that. Here's a guy covered in fur who fucking eats people telling me that humans are the barbaric ones. I'm looking forward to another sleepless night when he reaches out this claw covered paw and pulls me against him.

"Do not be afraid."

I don't have the strength to fight him. Even if he was a little Bajoran, I wouldn't have the strength to fight him. I let him flip me over and pull me tight against him. He wraps his arms around my chest and lies still.

"Are you growing warm?"

"Yeah," I sorta squeak out.

"Why were you in the hall tonight?"

"I can't talk about it." For once I hope someone lets things just be. I am actually starting to warm up. I guess being covered in fur makes a guy warm.

"I am going to kill the barbarian Roharen."

"Why?"

"Because he has no honor. Because he murders children. Because he murdered my kit."

"Why am I here?"

"Because I want you to be. I will not let Roharen have another kit."

"I'm almost 24, I'm not a kit."

"You are not a warrior."

"I graduated from Starfleet Academy. I was an officer on a Starship. I'm an adult."

"You are in my world. You cannot be a warrior until 30 of your years have passed. On my world, the age of manhood is fifteen - or 30 of your years."

"Uhm, I hate to break it to you, but I'm on my world."

"You do not posses the wisdom to be a warrior. Your people set their kits up for failure."

Did I take some drugs I didn't know about? I'm discussing philosophy with a lion, naked in his bed.

"I will kill Roharen," he insists quietly.

I'm trying to figure out what he wants from me, but I'm not getting anywhere. All I want to do is sleep, but I'm afraid to close my eyes. "I don't know what's going on between you two, but I'm not part of it. And I don't want to be."

"I know what he has done to you."

Who doesn't.

"He will kill you eventually."

"Not if the Maquis get me first."

"Why were you in the hall tonight?"

"I couldn't go back to my cell."

"You smell of them."

Getting warm has only done one thing - made me coherent enough to remember how I got here in the first place. I'm gonna start fucking bawling like a baby again. My tears are icy against my face where they're meeting the cool air of the room. I couldn't move right now if I tried. Z'lares holds me tighter to him and starts licking the tears from my neck. He follows the trail from my neck to my eyes and his sandpaper tongue bathes my eyelids. I can't stop. It's not exactly manly but he's already told me what he thinks of me. I could kill twenty prisoners with my bare hands and because he's decided I'm not old enough to be a warrior, I'd still be a kid - kit in his eyes.

"This won't hurt," he whispers in my ear.

Before I can react, he pinches the skin of my neck between his teeth and bites me. It stings at first, but it only lasts a nanosecond. My neck goes numb almost immediately. The numbness spreads throughout my body and he keeps licking my neck, drinking the blood he spilled.

"Sleep," is the last thing I hear.

********

I wake up alone and with fuzzy memories. Was last night a dream? I look around the cell and know it really did happen. There's a jumpsuit on the end of the bed and I pull it on and hurry out of the room. I feel hung over and stumble around before I realize I have about ten minutes to get to the motorpool. I need a shower so bad it hurts, but it'll hurt worse if I'm late.

I make it on time and do my job. I can't get Z'lares out of my mind. I keep seeing him. But all I see are his eyes. Funny, I didn't notice how weird his eyes were last night. Everytime I shut mine, I see his. Yellow - they were yellow and the iris was oblong and dilated vertically. He has the look of a predator. It's not a very different look from a lot of the guys in here. What sets the Jiklarians off is their snout-like faces, huge rows of sharp pointy teeth and their claws. I spend the entire day thinking about Z'lares and his crew and when the bell sounds, I'm caught wondering where the day went.

"Paris!"

Great, it's Pete. As soon as he gets to me, I'm gonna hit him so hard he'll be the one in the infirmary. I don't give a fuck if I spend the next month in solitary.

"C'mon!" he calls from 20 yards away. He waves his arms in the air - right, like I don't see him.

I take my time putting away my tools and just as I'm closing the toolbox I can feel him behind me.

"Get away from me," I snarl without turning around.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "Tom, come on."

"Don't fucking touch me."

"Tom, the Maquis are coming for you today. They heard you got in a fight with Roharen and think you're fair game now. We have to go."

"I said get away from me."

"Oh, so you're going to fight six of them by yourself. Tom, come on."

"Why?" I ask him without turning around. If I look at him, I'm afraid I'm going to start crying again. Finally, I'm able to look at him. I turn around and stare him in the eye before practically spitting in his face, "I trusted you!"

He just shrugs, like it's not important and says, "You would have done the same thing in my place. Come on, we have to go." He takes off in a different direction than our normal route and he breaks into a jog. I think about not following him, then decide I don't need an ass kicking on top of everything else. He's wrong though, I would never do what he did. Hell, he doesn't even think he might have done something wrong. Maybe he didn't. He didn't tell me to trust him. He never said he was my friend.

We make it to the messhall ten minutes before it closes and he grabs a tray. I can't eat, but I follow him to our table. I need a shower so bad, it's all I can think about. I'm obsessing over it. I don't look at any of them - especially not the ones I fucked last night. I put my head down on the table and sleep. My back is to the wall and there's four of Roharen's crew between me and the aisle. I know I won't be stabbed in the back - not literally anyway.

"C'mon Paris," Tallis pushes me to my feet and I blindly follow the group of them home. I stumble to my bunk and go back to sleep. Sleep is all I wanna do. I forget about my shower and go back to sleep.

From outside the darkness, from a place I can't quite reach, someone is calling to me. I ignore him and embrace the dark. It's quiet here and I'm alone. I like it this way. I can hear him, just above me, getting louder, but still soft enough to ignore. He's whispering to me, "Paris... Paris... " chanting my name, pulling on my arm. It's still not loud enough to bother me. I can stay in the darkness and he can't touch me.

I push him out of my mind and slip back into the darkness. The noise of my own thoughts doesn't even bother me here. It's the best high I've ever had in my life, this void. I don't ever want to come out.

"He's waking up."

I know that voice. It's her. The one who makes herself feel better by pretending to care about everyone else. I haven't visited her little world in quite awhile but the humiliation of my last trip here is too hard to forget. I grab the dark, but can't quite manage to get back inside.

"Tom?"

I can feel her standing next to me. The tricorder she's running over me is as loud as a red-alert klaxon but I'm still trying to get back in my self-created womb. She presses a hypospray to my neck and I know my game of pretend is over. I open my eyes and she's standing right above my face, peering down at me, tricorder still scanning away. I might as well make the best of the situation.

"Did we spend the night together?" I ask her. I know the lopsided grin I'm giving her is going to work. Smiling's infectious. Smile at someone, they smile back... problem gone.

She snaps her tricorder shut and smiles back at me. "We've actually spent the last two nights together. Do you remember how you got here?"

"No ma'am," I tell her truthfully.

"Your cellmate carried you here. You had been asleep for twelve hours and no one could wake you."

"Oh. What's wrong with me?" I can't be sick. Sick equals weak.

"I can't find anything wrong with you but exhaustion. So I let you sleep."

"Thanks, I think. How long do I have to stay here?"

"Tom, why are you in such a rush? The infirmary must be better than your cell."

She looks at me like she's waiting for me to spill my guts to her. As if that will ever happen.

"It's not. Sorry, too many sick people, I might catch something." I smile at her again and sit up. I take inventory and realize I feel better than I have in weeks. I swing my legs off the side of the biobed and she reaches a hand out to my chest to stop me. I pull back, I don't want her touching me - she of the pristine medical bay and girl next door Pollyanna attitude.

"You can't leave yet. I have to run some more tests."

"Why? I was tired, I slept."

"You had a bite mark on your neck and an unknown substance in your blood. Do you remember being bitten?"

Flashes of memory march across my mind - I do remember. "No."

"Do you remember having sex? You had tearing and swelling around your anus and rectum."

Shit. The flush starts at the base of my throat and climbs my face leaving a hot path that I know she sees. Blushing- the curse of the fair skinned. As soon as I feel the hotness creeping up my face, it intensifies. There's nothing guaranteed to make me blush than knowing I'm already bright red. Next comes crimson.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I have to ask."

"I know," I manage, "for the report." My face is burning and the only way to get it to go away is to wait and think about something else, but the bitch won't let it go.

"I'm sorry, I know it's embarrassing."

"It was my idea - the sex. It doesn't have to go in the report, does it?" I give her the half-smile, the one that makes people feel like they're sharing a secret with you.

"It already is. I just thought... because of what happened before... that it was an assault. I'm sorry."

"That's OK, I can use a vacation." She sentenced me to a week in solitary with her report. No fucking - it's in the rules. Of course the only time it's enforced is if you have to go to the infirmary - and the doctor reports it.

"I haven't filed the report yet."

"Don't change it for me. You don't want to get caught falsifying reports, believe me." I smile at her again and lie back down. If I have to stay here longer, I might as well get comfortable. "So how long am I in for, Doc?"

"I need a few more samples of blood, and I want to see you eat with my own eyes. You're fifteen pounds under your ideal weight."

"My ideal weight is wrong. I weigh 175 - exactly what I should."

"Well then, you're twenty pounds underweight. You weigh 156. Have you looked in a mirror recently?"

"No." I haven't exactly wanted to look into my own eyes.

"I'm ordering special meal privileges for you. The replicators will give you whatever you ask for."

Why doesn't she just paint a target on me? "OK, I'll eat," I tell her. "What do you want me to eat before I go?"

"Anything you want." She takes her blood samples and points to her personal replicator, "It's programmed for full meals. Pick something you like and as soon as you're finished, you may leave. If you remember who bit you, I need to know. Whoever did it did you a favor. His saliva made you get the sleep you needed."

I jump off the bed and order my food. As soon as it materializes, I sit at her table and start eating. She has good taste. Most of the meals are personal recipes - one of them a favorite of Fleet families. My mom had the recipe programmed into her replicator. You can learn a lot about a family from their replicators.

"When were you on Bajor?" I ask her.

She spins away from the machines that are analyzing my blood, her mouth open in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"I didn't, I guessed. You have Lahmi soup in your replicator database. It's something they eat in the camps, not serve in restaurants."

"You were Maquis. I didn't believe you were."

"We're not talking about me."

"And, Mr. Paris, we weren't talking about me."

"So I'm dismissed?"

"Yes. You have the next two shifts off and I want to see you in two days."

"If I don't see you first," I call over my shoulder as I sprint out the door.

I decide to go home. Everyone else is working in the fields so I'll have some time alone to think.

As soon as I'm in back my cell after a marathon shower, my fucking ankle bracelet starts beeping at me. Great, looks like I'm going to have that time to think after all. What will happen to me if I don't answer the summons? Will they come in after me? I've never seen a guard inside the prisoner area. I'm still deciding if I should answer it when it gets even louder - fuck. What's next? Electric shock? The tingle of the transporter crawling over my skin answers that question.

I materialize in the vice-warden's office to an audience of five. My friend the doctor - looking a little flustered, her colleague that I'd rather forget I'd ever met, two women I've never seen, and the vice warden. They're all sitting around a rectangular table and I'm facing them like a court martial. I go from my cell to a normal looking room with regular furniture, bright, clean walls and plants. They even have pictures on the walls. How about giving a guy a little notice, huh? I'm still looking around the room, still trying to figure out what's going on and why I've been summoned.

But, the Vice-Warden doesn't even give me a chance to get my bearings before he starts talking. "Mr. Paris," I was at the academy with your father and when I was your age, I served with him on the Raptor. You look exactly like him."

"And?"

"Unfortunately for you, you lack his character. Stand at attention, young man!"

"I'm not in Starfleet." God, I am such an asshole. I need a shovel, I'm already digging a fucking deep hole here, but I can't help myself. What do these people want from me?

"Someone wants to visit you. This hearing has been called to decide if your sentence in solitary should be revoked so you can see her."

"Who?"

"Your mother."

"I have a sentence in solitary?"

"A week. We've overlooked your fits of aggression and your poor attitude during your transitional period, but your latest transgression cannot be overlooked."

"And what would that be?"

"Don't be coy Mr. Paris, I've read the doctor's report. Give me a reason I should let you out of your sentence so you can see her today."

Today? I can't see my mom today. I can't see my mom in here. She'll know, she'll know everything the second she looks into my eyes. "I don't want to see her."

"She has requested a visit and if I decide you're going to see her, you will."

"I can save you the trouble. My father wouldn't approve. Tell her no and you'll earn some points from the Admiral. That's what you're really after, isn't it? Ass-kisser. Trying to figure out which way the wind's blowing before you commit?"

He sighs like I'm the most trouble he's had to handle in ages and I probably am. Fucking middle aged, middle level bureaucrat going nowhere in his life, but he's king of this little domain isn't he? I wonder how much he likes having power over my life. Does it give him a thrill to have the image of his old friend Owen, and now superior, standing in front of him. Does he expect me to beg? But what can he get out of it? I've seen so many men like him over the years that I know exactly what he's going to do. The hangers on in dad's circle make me sick - they're all seeking crumbs from the great man - they bow and scrape to him hoping he'll do something for them.

"Doctor?" He asks my doctor, "is he fit?"

She hesitates for a second, but answers, "Yes, Commander. I'll need to examine him in a few days, though."

"Very good. Mr. Paris - you'll be spending the next two weeks in solitary. Your mother can request a visit with you during regularly scheduled visiting hours. Get him out of here and bring in the next one."

Before I know it I'm back in solitary confinement. Two weeks isn't so bad. But last time in solitary I lost control after two days. Maybe I'll make it three this time. I settle onto the floor and close my eyes; mom wants to see me. Dad must be off-planet. He would never agree to her coming here. I want to see her so bad, I can feel her arms around me. I'm a little boy again and mommy's hugs keep the universe at bay. Come on Tommy, who are you kidding, mommy hasn't made the world better since you were about 14 - but I can wish can't I?

If she saw me here, like this, it would destroy her. She probably thinks I'm in minimum security. I know how these things work. Someone with a grudge against dad, or fleet families in general, put me in maximum. I know I was supposed to be on the other side of that fence. I know I was supposed to be living in barracks not cells. I know I'm supposed to be going to counseling sessions three times a week and playing chess and table tennis and pool with my fellow prisoners. Every day isn't supposed to be a fight for my life.

I bet most people don't even know there is a maximum security prison here. If I could face mom, maybe she could make it better. She'd tell dad what's going on and he would make sure I'm moved.

Instead something so rotten, so foul that I want to retch, occurs to me. Dad may be the one who decided I needed to be in maximum. He's called me a weakling so many times I can't count them anymore. And I did turn down his offer...

*************

I spend the next fourteen days in a fog so thick that I don't recognize myself. I'm being released back to my cell today and I'm happy for it. Even though the past two weeks have been a hellish repeating loop of nightmares and memories, I think the time in solitary has been good for me. I have a new outlook. I think I might be insane.

The first person I see when I return to my cell is Roharen. I think he can see the new me because he doesn't say a word. I grab my shit and head for the showers without talking to him.

I run into some Maquis and they give me a wide berth. I look into the mirror and I can see why. The look on my face would have scared the old me. Well, not scared, but I would have given someone with that look some space.

I finish my shower and go back to the mirror to shave. I like the beard, it makes me look older, less vulnerable, but it itches, so it goes. My eyes are hard, cold. I lose track of time as I stand staring at myself in the mirror and I don't care. I don't have anywhere to be. I am hungry though. They feed you field rations in solitary. My extra replicator privileges went out the window after the third day in solitary. I guess the doc forgot about me. Field rations are OK, but eating them is like eating dirt. Sure, they taste better, but the texture is the same.

When I was in solitary I started craving alcohol. It got so bad, I would have drunk rubbing alcohol. I dreamt Pete came by and gave me some dope to smoke. I dreamt we got stoned and then I fucked him and he loved it. I dreamt I killed Roharen. That was the best dream. It started the second week I was there. I turned into a Jiklarian and me and my brothers ripped him apart limb by limb. The dream was so real... my snout was covered in blood and the resistance as my claws ripped through his flesh made me only hit him harder. Then the pack turned on the rest of his men. Z'lares ripped Pete's head off in one move... I almost regretted that, but the bloodlust was too strong. I went after the Maquis next. The dream was so real that I still can't shake it. I've believed it so completely that I was actually surprised to see Roharen in our cell this morning. I really thought I had killed him. I guess killing him 1000 times in my dreams doesn't make it real.

This time I didn't dream about Chakotay. I tried. Everytime I went to sleep, I tried to remember his face, but I couldn't. I remember what he looks like, but I couldn't see his face in my mind. I tried to dream about momma and all the fun stuff we did when I was little. That didn't work either. I didn't even dream about the accident. What I dreamt was no accident. I wonder if I could kill like that outside my dreams? If anyone fucks with me, we'll all find out.

 

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To be Continued......


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